In the end, it wasn't much of a choice at all. Keep her here to suffer the horrible leg pain of her tumor or subject her to a major surgery to remove the leg, only to die of a body and lungs full of cancer. We owed her more than that. ​ Just a short couple of months ago when Bella was diagnosed, Farmer Tom and I had a conversation where we agreed that when her quality of life was gone and her beautiful brown eyes looked at us in pain and not happiness, we would set her free. We thought we'd have more time to settle in to that decision, but hard as we tried, we were unable to change the outcome.​ Very early on, Bella lost the use of her leg. Her days revolved around 5:00 am egg white omelets full of pain medication, to finding a shady place to lay during the day, and then waiting until we could get home to give her another pain relieving snack in the evening. We kept her in the cool house as much as possible, provided every creature comfort that we could think of, and loved her as hard as we could. Enough to make up for the years of living she would never see? I hope so.​ When we received the news that the treatments had failed to slow the progression of her cancer, we shifted gears and began the process of saying goodbye. I took some time off of work and we just soaked up as much of her hugs and tail wags as she offered. ​ She always did have so much love to give, we were often just too busy to stop and receive it. Life is tricky that way. Balancing our responsibilities with the things that bring us pleasure. Sometimes the scale tips too far in one direction and you have to frantically paddle back to the other side only to find the game has changed and now you are losing something you took for granted. Something permanent. Something impossible. Bella.

This week she was laid to rest next to our boy Sammy underneath the big old walnut tree. Bob and Bailey are there too, a reunion of sorts. They all walked these grounds together, when their bodies were strong and the days held such promise. Old friends, talking about old times. I would love to hear the stories. ​ RIP Sweet Baby Girl. We will miss you every day we have left on this earth, until we meet again.

TPF Note to Readers: This is the last and final post in the series of reports on Bella and her battle with bone cancer. We are thankful for all of the medical staff who worked with us during this process, beginning to end. Your compassion and care were above and beyond. For all of the people Bella met on this journey, who asked about her, I appreciate the time you took to listen to what amazing dogs these are and how Bella worked with us on our farm. You helped me to share the story of the Great Pyrenees breed, both steady protector and gentle giant. And to that little girl who came up to Bella after her last treatment, standing eye level and fearless, asking to pet her and never wanting to stop, I love you. You have a beautiful heart and your future dog will thank you for it. ​ TPF Readers, as hard as it has been to share this experience, we have felt your love and support along the way. You have walked with us through it and with time I know you will meet us on the other side of our grief. We thank you for your patience and compassion during this difficult time.​ ~Tom and Suzy

This has felt like a bug vs windshield kind of year. Probably why I have grown sentimental about this crack that recently developed in the front glass of my Jeep. This crack represents the many miles I have driven with Bella, back and forth through the countryside for her treatments. While the glass normally protects us from the bulk of the projectiles, it also says we are vulnerable if struck at just the right angle.​ And vulnerable we have been. We have taken some hard hits this year. It's been a struggle. Not just on our farm, but in our country and around the world. We are in a funk. Mired. Dejected. Overwhelmed.

Lucy Is All Of Us.

I'm ready for a do over. Or, at least, a new start. So, for a minute, let's talk about the things that make us smile.

The pond fish who have managed to increase their numbers with no encouragement from us. Note: there are supposed to be two fish in this pond.

This sad little apple tree that was eaten down to one limb by Pete many years ago, continues to be the little train that could.

This little chick born with a crossbill, that has wormed her way into our hearts.

Pigzilla!

A single, perfect, sun flower.

Yes, it is easy to get caught on the downward spiral. Even as I know we have some difficult days ahead, it is up to us to make the future what we want it to be.​ I'm ready for change. Are you?

Somewhere around 5 am, this time of year, there is a shift change. The moon yawns and pulls up its cloud blanket while the sun pours a cup of coffee and greets the day. The deer drift back through the fields toward their daylight hideaways. The moles suspend their long night of digging just as the field birds begin calling out their morning greeting. The flowers slowly unravel to reveal their happy faces.​ As I head out to the coops, I can hear the chickens chatting happily amongst themselves at the same time I watch as a raccoon family fusses while getting themselves tucked in for a long nap. ​ Watching the new day emerge is such a magical time and normally I am happy to oblige all the sights, sounds and colors with my deepest appreciation and respect. It is reason enough to get out of bed, even if you didn't have hungry mouths waiting on you. Lucy is always the first to the feed bowl, but even she takes a moment to appreciate the dawn.

Today though, I've already been awake for hours, anticipating the long drive to the University to get Bella's third and final treatment in the protocol/clinical trial she is receiving for her cancer. It has been 2 1/2 months since her diagnosis. ​I have scheduled a consultation with the Doctor who has been monitoring Bella's treatment. I am troubled by what appears to me to be a lack of response to treatment. I need to know where we stand.

The gloomy day suits my mood.

​ As we arrive at the University, Bella is also subdued. She does not want me to leave. I promise her I will be back to take her home.​ Back and forth we have made this journey physically and emotionally. Nearly 2,000 miles on the vehicle with countless sleepless nights and tears. It has been a jumble of contradictions. I've been both determined and uncertain. Hopeful and helpless. The time between treatments has seemed an eternity, while the march to her finish line has passed lightning fast.​ This is the day I have been dreading. Knowing without knowing, what I would hear. I knew it at 2:00 am when I could no longer hide in my sleep. I passed the day busy but distracted, in a rush and yet in no hurry. When I finally sat in the room with the doctor and heard the words, it was a feeling of despair without panic. I knew this was coming and yet it all felt too soon.

Bella has failed to respond to treatment. Her tumor has grown rapidly, along with her discomfort. Her leg is unstable, unusable and painful. She is at severe risk of fracture. We are at a crossroads. We are given the option to amputate or euthanize. We have a week to decide.

This is the face Bella gives me when we get home. It is distorted and sad, but also comical. It describes my emotions perfectly. Laugh so you don't cry. Then cry anyway. ​ We were told that worst case scenario Bella would survive 2 months with her cancer. Best case, 2 years. We haven't made it to month 3 yet.

The clock is ticking.

​TPF Note to Readers: Please bear with us as we come to terms with the sudden, very terrible and unexpected diagnosis Bella received after a small limp resulted in the visit to our local vet. She is now being treated at the University of Illinois. Her time is short. This series of reports on her condition is our way of coping while at the same time educating everyone on a very common yet tragic disease that plagues these great giant dog breeds. More research must be done to learn better and more effective treatments and cures for this disease. It is our hope that by participating in a clinical trial, Bella will somehow move the dial of the educational arc further into the understanding zone and closer to a solution. Thank you for your patience and compassion during this difficult time. ~Tom and Suzy

Life is what happens to you while you are busy making other plans. ~ John Lennon

Did you have big plans for the garden this year?Of course you did.

Did you make it happen?

If your answer is yes: Congratulations! You have managed to find a work/garden balance and are winning at life. We admire your accomplishment and dream of the day we can be just like you.

​If your answer is no: Welcome! You have found your tribe!

Here is the truth about gardening. It's hard. It's time consuming. It's dirty, hot and ungrateful. It is sometimes buggy. It never cuts you a break. Miss a water day? Come back to a crime scene of plants all laid out, shriveled up and shooting out giant rays of guilt trips.

Even the cat is judging me.

​Forget to get that mulch down? Welcome to the Wild World of Weeds.

Even though we have dreamed all year of having that "Ahhhhh" garden moment,

sometimes we just have to be realistic. It's not happening. At least, not the way we planned it.​ But that doesn't mean we are defeated. It only means we need to change how we measure success. If life gets too busy to maintain the king sized garden of our dreams and you are feeling overwhelmed, maybe it's time to get back to basics. ​ The smallest, most manageable garden ever.

One Pot

A simple, perfect, pocket garden.

Completely manageable and dare I say it? FUN.

This is a win. It's a compromise, a revision, a Plan B. But a Win, nonetheless.​ When I started blogging our story six years ago, I had an idea that anyone could be a farmer. You only need to be able to grow and nurture a plant or animal for the purpose of feeding yourself and your family. I still believe that is true. Farmers are not defined by the number of acres they manage, but by the intent of their heart. ​ So, quit with the judgments. Stop killing yourself to make a Pinterest-worthy, Instagram-ready Garden of Eden. That isn't the point, and never was. Take a deep breath, relax and let go of what isn't working. Take the stress out of the garden and put the love back in. Keep it simple. Make it fun. Don't worry that you won't have enough, this year the Farmer's Market will get your business. That's ok. They'll be happy to see you.​ Next year, or the year after, you can build it again. Or not. When the time comes, you'll know what feels right. But for now, life is calling you, go ahead and live it. The weeds can wait.

We have, over the years, been visited by many and all inhabitants of the countryside. Some wild, some not. Proof of this has taken many forms. On occasion, there will be visual sightings, footprints, droppings. Sometimes we see them via security footage. Frequently, the evidence is found in our traps.​ Before I get to that, let me explain the traps. As a farm goes, we have animals. Animals require feed storage. Both animals and feed attract predators. They also attract opportunists, and sometimes just passersby. Knowledge of how to deal with each of these scenarios has been trial and error.​ First, the error. When you have live animals that feed off of the ground, chemicals and poison are a big NO. (Probably a big NO in general, but we can debate that another day). We cannot fertilize our grass, nor can we use any kind of pesticide or poison that would normally do a nice job of keeping rodents at bay. In one non-chemical experiment, we tried using glue traps outside, and horribly, managed to catch some small birds that were irreversibly entangled in the muck. Never again. Another small scale method of rodent abatement, the mouse trap, has been used with some success but relies heavily on the trap setter to keep them baited and set. False trips are common and render the trap temporarily useless.​ Our trials include, using sound and vibration to deter moles (doesn't work), assuming that animals kept in enclosures surrounded by wire are safe (not always), assuming that an enclosure that worked well for 3 years is predator proof (not always), keeping feed in containers eliminates loss from uninvited diners (not always).​ On that last item, be clear, wildlife does not also mean dumblife. These guys know how to tunnel under, climb, lift, jump, reach through, rip open and unclasp just about anything you can think of, to get a meal. If that means figuring how to open the lid on a feed bin, they will do it. Sometimes that meal is a chicken. In fact, pretty much everything loves a chicken. Protecting them is a full time job.​ So we started trapping using live traps. It was the best way to eliminate the option that we might harm a pet, or other unintended capture. It works. Sort of.

Like I said, it's trial and error.

We catch a lot of the neighbor's cats.

And sometimes, we catch the thing we are trying to protect. False "catches" are released without any harm done. Except maybe to their ego.​ When we are diligent with the traps, we are successful.

We aren't attempting to catch everything, just those that choose to visit the coops at night when the chickens are most vulnerable. Once you experience the carnage that one lone predator can create, you will understand the need to keep these animals at bay. They might look cute, but don't be fooled. They are dangerous and deadly to chickens.

Once a chicken is trapped in a coop with a predator, it's pretty much over. It's an unfair fight. Plus, as keepers, it is our responsibility to ensure their safety. Personally, I feel it is a promise.​ So we trap and remove anything that is deemed a threat. It keeps our chickens happy and healthy, and we all sleep a little better at night.

​ A few weeks ago I felt a window open up and a soft breeze blew in. Not literally, figuratively. It was as if I had graduated a level and was being rewarded. The raging river of fear and anguish from recent events slowed to a trickle. At the same time, a quiet washed over my mind and a settling took place.

​It is, as it will be.

It has been a difficult year, with many life and death questions being asked and answered. I had a very long run where I cried every day. We lost our cat after a long illness. We are losing Bella. There have been others that I feel responsible for. Greater or Lesser, they all count. It is a heavy weight. One that became too heavy for me to carry. So I did the only thing I could think of to do. I set it down. ​ Something interesting happened. Once I stopped the struggle and became still, a message revealed itself. ​

​It is, as it will be.

For the longest time I have been holding my breath, waiting to see how it ends. All of it. My career, my relationships, my life. I wonder if the choices I have made will pan out. I wonder what will kill me and those that I love. I wonder if we'll have enough money. I wonder if we'll have too much. I wonder if the Earth will survive. I wonder if we'll ever make peace. I wonder if I am serving my greater purpose. I wonder if that matters. ​ I wonder about the finish. The End. I process and filter information all the time to try to find the clues on how the final sequence plays out. And then, in a reverse domino effect, I work my way back to Now and set my expectations. The process creates predictability, reduces anxiety, and eliminates time wasted exploring outcomes that will never be realized.​ This works well when death is the only outcome that matters. But Death is not the point, Life is. And more specifically, Happiness.

It is, as it will be.

So, I have been reminded, in dramatic fashion, to choose what is important, not to let it choose me. In this, I have work to do. But I feel the path is clearer. Getting caught up in the Last Day has been robbing me of the Every Day and this must stop. Today.​ Lucky for me, someone has already put this thought cloud to words:

Happiness is a journey,not a destination.For a long time it seemed to methat life was about to begin—real life.But there was alwayssome obstacle in the way,something to be gotten through first,some unfinished business,time still to be served,a debt to be paid.At last it dawned on me thatthese obstacles were my life.This perspective has helped me tosee there is no way to happiness.Happiness is the way.So treasure every momentyou have and remember thattime waits for no one.Alfred D. SouzaWriter, Philosopher

​TPF Note to Readers: Please bear with us as we come to terms with the sudden, very terrible and unexpected diagnosis Bella received after a small limp resulted in the visit to our local vet. She is now being treated at the University of Illinois. Her time is short. This series of reports on her condition is our way of coping while at the same time educating everyone on a very common yet tragic disease that plagues these great giant dog breeds. More research must be done to learn better and more effective treatments and cures for this disease. It is our hope that by participating in a clinical trial, Bella will somehow move the dial of the educational arc further into the understanding zone and closer to a solution. Thank you for your patience and compassion during this difficult time. ~Tom and Suzy

When Bella was a baby, she came to live on our farm. We knew our senior dog Sammy was slowing down and hoped there would be time for him to show her what it is that dogs do here.

She learned a lot in the year they spent together. Sammy showed her everything, including how to pick berries with me.

Day after day they worked the fences and the livestock. She learned how to guard, guide and protect.

As time went by, Bella gained strength and confidence. She started to experiment with her physical size. Sammy did his best to keep up, even allowing her to engage in rough play. He knew playtime was important for her too.

But he was tired and old. Eventually Sammy's body began to fail, and the long walks became difficult for him. He'd start out, then wait for us to come back. One day, after a walk, he laid down to rest. He never got up again.

The torch had been passed. Bella was now our lead dog.

In the years since Sammy's passing, Bella has been a strong and steady presence on our farm. Benny, Pete and even Lucy, all respect her leadership. She is smart, calm and direct. When necessary, she is a swift disciplinarian.

​ A natural matriarch, she thinks for herself and sets the pace. If the Boys go left, she goes right. They eventually fall in step. Sammy would have been proud of his apprentice.

Life is bringing us full circle, as now it is Bella who is navigating her final seasons. Except there is no youngster learning at her side. At this time in our lives, nearing retirement, we are slowly moving towards a different lifestyle and the era of sharing our lives with these larger than life dogs is coming to a close. Too soon it seems, but the decision has been made. Bella and Benny will be our last livestock guardian dogs. When they are gone, the farm will transition from raising livestock into something else. Exactly what, we don't know, but this ending will be a new beginning of some kind, time will tell. That is a story for another day.​

Our plan right now is to have as many long talks and quiet moments with Bella as possible. She has always been a good listener and I think she'd like to hear the stories of how she and Sammy used to walk the fields at dawn in search of berries and adventure. I'd like to think she remembers Sammy, as we do, a large gruff old dog with a heart of gold and a soft spot for a bright white puppy that came to live on the farm.

Her legacy is also secured. We have learned together and shared the responsibility of caring for the vulnerable and defenseless animals on our land. She worked long days, was always on-call and never took a holiday. A working dog that made her job look easy. She has been forced into early retirement, her days are now leisurely and we are thankful for the companionship and tail-wags she still offers. She doesn't know that cancer is stealing her tomorrows and we aren't telling her. She did the job we asked her to do, without fail or complaint, it is our turn to take care of her. That is the contract we made when we brought her home, a commitment we will honor, a partnership until the end.

​TPF Note to Readers: Please bear with us as we come to terms with the sudden, very terrible and unexpected diagnosis Bella received after a small limp resulted in the visit to our local vet. She is now being treated at the University of Illinois. Her time is short. This series of reports on her condition is our way of coping while at the same time educating everyone on a very common yet tragic disease that plagues these great giant dog breeds. More research must be done to learn better and more effective treatments and cures for this disease. It is our hope that by participating in a clinical trial, Bella will somehow move the dial of the educational arc further into the understanding zone and closer to a solution. Thank you for your patience and compassion during this difficult time. ~Tom and Suzy

Last week when I stopped by the University Idea Garden, I found some beautiful plantings, but none inspired me like this one. A whole garden for children! How wonderful!​ Look closely at the benches under this little structure. And the book library! Put that cell phone away and pick up a real book.

This bird bath rabbit is perfection.

This book worm is such a great height for tiny helpers!

When the kids decide they don't want to garden anymore?

There's always sand box and tic tac toe.

Have an artist in the family? Why not let them paint your garden structures?

And finish off the path with their handmade stepping stones.

The garden is a wonderful teacher. If we're lucky we will spend our whole lives learning the lessons of Mother Nature. Why not get started in childhood?

This week we went back to U of I for radiation. The machine was repaired, we were rescheduled. Back on track it would seem.​ Except we weren't. In the two weeks since Bella was originally scheduled for this treatment, her condition has dramatically worsened. She barely uses her leg now, the swelling is noticeable, the tumor prominent on her right ankle.

As much as I have been trying to prepare myself, I am overwhelmed by this. Tara, the radiation technician, is not. Her sunny, upbeat manner distracted me. I asked her how long she had been working in this field.​ "4 years. I'll be here until I retire." She responded. "Another 18 years or so."​ When I commented that it must be difficult to see all of the heartbreak, she told me that working in this hospital was a rare opportunity. The dedication and concern the animals received from their families and the love shared was incredible to witness. Even though medically, the cases were challenging, she felt good about the ability to offer hope to these often distraught animal caregivers. She assured me she would take excellent care of Bella during her treatment.​ Although I believed her, these trips are getting increasingly difficult for me as I am unable to hide in denial. Leaving without Bella is a gut punch.

Across from the University I had noticed a sign for a garden and this day I decided to stop. I needed a moment to compose myself. It was there I met an angel.

As I wandered through the gardens and marveled at all of the creative plantings, I happened across a beautiful soul of a lady. Her name is Katherine, she is a Master Gardener at the Idea Garden at the U of I Extension Campus. I interrupted her work to compliment her on the beautiful designs and thanked her for her efforts. We talked about the University gardens, then about our personal gardens, the weather, and finally, about the reason I was in town. She shared that she had been taking her pets to the University Veterinary Hospital for 30 years and that she held the staff in high regard. She told me Bella was in excellent hands and that she would pray for us on our journey. Her hands were dirty but she offered a virtual hug and I accepted it. I left in a hurry as the tears were flowing and drove away knowing I had been "seen". Thank you Katherine.

Bella is home now. The radiation treatment is designed to give her long lasting pain relief in the area of the tumor on her leg. I am told we should see improvement in her comfort level very soon. This is what we have been hoping to accomplish. As Dr. Connell described it, quality of life in the short term.

She shared this picture she took of Bella a few weeks ago. I am stunned by this gift. Bella appears so vibrant and healthy. And happy. I feel the Universe is trying to teach me something. Something bigger than Bella. I need to be still and keep my mind open, to better capture the lesson. Never too old to be a student.

TPF Note to Readers: Please bear with us as we come to terms with the sudden, very terrible and unexpected diagnosis Bella received after a small limp resulted in the visit to our local vet. She is now being treated at the University of Illinois. Her time is short. This series of reports on her condition is our way of coping while at the same time educating everyone on a very common yet tragic disease that plagues these great giant dog breeds. More research must be done to learn better and more effective treatments and cures for this disease. It is our hope that by participating in a clinical trial, Bella will somehow move the dial of the educational arc further into the understanding zone and closer to a solution. Thank you for your patience and compassion during this difficult time. ~Tom and Suzy

How To Make a Pool Party

​1. Get a pool.

2. Fill it with water.​3. Wait 5 minutes.

Once the word gets out, your work is done!

It only took 30 minutes for every single member of our farm family to stop by the new pool. We get a new one every year once the weather warms up. They pretty much trash it right away. It'll never look this clean again. #almostsummer​

Thanks for helping us to celebrate the unofficial start of summer! Nothing says summer like a swimming pool and frolicking kids! We hope you enjoy your Memorial Day weekend and be sure to thank a Veteran for us! (Thank you for your service Dad!).

Hi, I'm Sue Pranskus, and this is my sometime blog. It's mostly about my attempts to "green-up" my life. On our little farm we experiment with livestock, gardening, building, repurposing and anything else that we find interesting. Born and bred on the West Coast, I am living in the Midwest by choice, not circumstance. I have built a life based largely on core values and loosely on whimsy. It's that whimsy, though, that gets me in trouble every time!